


Cassiopeia

by orphan_account



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: First Kiss, Human Bill Cipher, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-12 21:59:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5682319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bill and Dipper discuss methods of declaring their friendship as eternal under the light of the stars.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cassiopeia

**Author's Note:**

> this is....... this is the sweetest thing ive ever written in my life. its so pure. please enjoy this awful thing. theres a vague hint of sadness at the end but otherwise u are in for only happiness. i proofread this but only kind of, so it probably contains some issues

Beneath the expanse of a summer night sky, two figures rested in its faint glow. The forest was both quieter and far more alive than it had been, even the slightest breeze rustling a canopy of leaves. A voice mingled in with the chirp of crickets, only another breath to match that of the wind.

“There’s Cassiopeia.” Dipper whispered, motioning towards a small cluster of stars.

While Bill knew every constellation and exactly where to find it, he had no interest in saying that he did. As much as he loved to assert his intelligence over that of others, his companion’s soft voice and genuine marveling at the night lights left him more satisfied than being better than him would have. Almost. Perhaps it was a mild exaggeration, but he wouldn’t over analyze his contentment in being with him. Moments like this were more than a rarity; Mabel and Will had a constant presence around them. It was not done with intent to smother, of course. They were all friends, not just Bill and Dipper, and it was only reasonable that they would spend their summers together for as long as possible. He was happy with them, but he would savor these moments far more than a noisy traipse into the woods.

“…Oh, and there’s Ursa Major.”

After having closed his eye to listen only to Dipper’s voice, Bill let it flicker open to glance at him. The lighting was far from ideal, but he could see the grin on his face and the moon’s glow on his skin. “You mean the Big Dipper?” He asked, though he knew the answer already.

“Well, yes, but I like the other name better.” Came the reply, no louder than the others but perhaps a bit more agitated.

“Dipper’s my favorite name.” Bill murmured, letting his eye close again.  


His friend made a sound between a laugh and a scoff. If they were under the light of the sun, Bill might have seen the faint color that took place on his face.

“You know,” Bill began, interrupting Dipper as he started to identify another constellation, “We should stay like this forever.”

“What do you mean? The sun’s going to come up. We’ve both got to go home eventually, too.”

“/Duh/. You take things so literally. I meant we should stay together.”

“…I go back home in a few weeks.” Dipper said, seeming perturbed. For someone as smart as he was, he had quite the tendency of misinterpreting others.

“I know you do. But after you visit for a few more summers, you should stay. You’ll be an adult then. You could if you wanted to.”

The other appeared hesitant to say anything at all. “I’ve got a lot of things I want to do. I don’t know if I can do them here.”

Bill sighed, tearing up grass on either side of his body. “When you’re done with that, then. I’ll wait.”

“For how long?”

“As long as I have to. But you’d really be pushing it if you made me wait till we’re a hundred years old.” 

Dipper’s hand started an awkward crawl towards Bill’s, though it paused halfway. “What if you don’t even want to be friends by then? What if you find someone else?” 

Bill gave a laugh, as if the idea of ever caring for someone else this way was nothing but an impossibility. He made his decisions and stuck to them, even if the results of being so unwavering could be disastrous, like the potential infection in his ear from trying to pierce it himself. “I won’t. But maybe you will.” 

“Maybe.” Dipper agreed. He finally took Bill’s hand in his own, ignoring the blades of grass stuck between their palms. “But what if we do stay together forever?”

“We could get married.” The answer came quickly, and it was obvious he had been prepared for the question. “We could do that now, even. We could seal the deal early and keep it going. That way, no matter where you go, we can still be together somehow.”

“We’re fourteen.” Dipper knew that he couldn’t have been serious, but he had to latch onto logic to stay calm in the face of an emotional conversation. “No one would let us do that. Even if they were really shady, I don’t think they could get away with that.”

“You ruin everything by making it all realistic.” His thumb stroked over the back of his hand before he let go, sitting himself up. “Okay, so we can’t do that. But there’s no rules about getting engaged.”

Dipper followed him, though he would have rather stayed with his back pressed to the cool earth. “You seem pretty attached to the idea of getting married to me.”

“It’s- it’s the ultimate bond! It’s a legally binding declaration of friendship. And it takes a /lot/ of work to break it.”

“People usually get married because they’re in love, not because they’re best friends.”

Bill gave him a glare, his brow furrowed. “Maybe /sometimes/.”

“I think that’s most times.” Dipper countered. The atmosphere was still light, but he could feel that his friend was getting distressed over it. He could just concede and declare their engagement, if he thought that would be anything but a horrible idea. 

“Then we can do something else.” Bill stared off to the side. He was far from in touch with his own feelings, and certainly no better at explaining them to others. He wouldn’t tell Dipper that he liked him. Even if he caught on and outright asked him, Bill would still deny it. The silence dragged on, before he sat up straighter and held out his arm. He rolled up his sleeve, nodding in agreement with no one but himself. 

“Let’s be blood brothers. That works too, doesn’t it?” He started picking at a scab on his wrist, before Dipper seized the offending hand.

“Do you have any idea how unsanitary that is? I don’t need your blood all… mingle-y with mine. If it’s that important to you, I have another idea. But it’s still pretty gross.”

Bill let Dipper pull his hand from the scab, though he did not do so without a hint of reluctance. “Okay. What did you have in mind?”  
“Well, first kisses are pretty important, right?”

“Only if you want them to be. I think they’re pretty arbitrary otherwise.” 

“And rubbing blood in each other’s wounds isn’t?”

Bill looked him in the eye for a few seconds. “What makes you think I haven’t kissed anyone yet?”

“Uh…” Any answer that came to mind sounded horribly rude, and Bill didn’t take well to offense. He was spared the pain of answering when his thoughts were interrupted.

“But I guess since you disclosed that about yourself, it’s only fair to tell you that I haven’t.”

As relived as Dipper was that he hadn’t gotten an earful, he was beginning to question himself quite thoroughly about just what he had suggested they do. He put his hand on Bill’s shoulder, turning to face him. “It can be a half second long and it still counts.”

“I know it does. I’m not going to make out with you, Pine Tree.” His cockiness did not suffer, despite the thud of his heart and spread of butterflies in his stomach. 

“Then let’s just do it.” Dipper got closer, far closer than Bill could ever recall him being. Or perhaps it only seemed that way because of the situation he was in. He was accustomed to being the one with full confidence in himself, not the one with shaking fingers over the prospect of a kiss. His nervousness only escalated; either Dipper was moving too slowly, or his brain was making him perceive everything in slow motion. Just before contact was made, Bill jerked backwards and started laughing. Not a shy giggle, but a burst of laughter straight from his chest. Everything he did had to be loud, even his nervousness. 

“I’m so sorry, that was-” He cut himself off, trying to get in air between his laughs. While he expected Dipper to take full offense and abandon him in the middle of the forest to go seethe, the reaction he got was far different. 

Dipper grabbed both sides of his face, pulling him forward and smashing their lips together gracelessly.

Bill had very little time to react, outside of a strangled noise of shock. He didn’t move away, though, and both of them were statue still for the span of a few seconds. While it was hard to see much of anything this close, Bill could tell that Dipper’s eyes were screwed shut. He was very careful when he moved his lips to kiss him better, sure that he would scare him off by not simply pulling away and calling their oath finished. It took no time at all for Dipper to return it. Even if Bill had not the faintest idea of what he was doing, it wasn’t as if Dipper did, either. 

They stayed that way for a bit longer, a span of moments with soft motions and warmth flowing through Bill’s veins. He could have stayed that way forever, frozen with only this for the rest of time. It could never last, however, especially not when Dipper’s hands shifted on his face and his fingers touched right on his ear where the wound he had inflicted was still fresh. Bill pulled back with a pained noise, though he wished he had just ignored it and kept kissing him for as long as he would allow.

“Oh, I’m- I’m really sorry.” Dipper whispered, his breaths just a little heavier than they had been before he kissed him.

“It’s okay.” Bill assured him. Even if it hadn’t lasted forever, it had lasted long enough. His gaze turned skyward, and he was silent for a few moments before he pointed up. “What’s that one?”

Dipper seemed dumbfounded by his blunt transition into another topic entirely, but he answered all the same. “Gemini.” He replied. 

“Oh, the twins one. That’s ours.” He mused, before he shifted closer to put his head on Dipper’s shoulder. “I’m glad we’re staying together.”

Nothing lasted forever, not their awkwardness or their kiss or their togetherness, and Dipper knew that very well. He wasn’t a particularly good liar, but maybe pretending wasn’t the same as lying when they were both doing it.

“…Me too.”


End file.
